To the Moon
by Horses of Shadow and Night
Summary: Sherlock Holmes is dying, two doctors arrive to make his dying wish come true. However in order to do that, they must go back through his memories, and discover the reason why. Why would Sherlock Holmes, who doesn't know the earth goes around the sun, wish to go to the moon? Johnlock, warning for charater death. Please R
1. Chapter 1

**Sooo how about that new episode of Sherlock everybody? Well guess what, this story has ABSOLUTELY NOTHING TO DO WITH IT! This story was inspired by one of the greatest stories I've ever exprienced before. It's the game 'To the Moon'. This story is a rehashing of that, with the characters of Sherlock. If you don't know the story of To the Moon, look up a Let's play of it or buy the game yourself. BUT ONLY AFTER YOU READ THIS! You will spoil the ending for yourself if you look it up. No cheating!**

**Reviews are welcome and appreciated. Disclaimer, I do not own Sherlock or To the Moon. Alright, now that's out of the way. Enjoy!**

* * *

Another day, another new patient. At least, that's how it felt for Dr. Neil Watts as he drove down the road. He was slightly annoyed though, their patient lived in the middle of no where! There was literally nothing on either side of the road, except trees, and rocks, and a SQUIRREL!

Swerving to evade the pea-brained creature that had just run out into the middle of the road, he ran into a tree. He looked up, well at least they were relatively close to their patient's house. He could have crashed in a worse place.

Climbing out of the car, he winced as his co-worker began to ream him out. The front of their car was smoking a little bit, but he could still make out her angry expression as she glared at him from the other side of the car.

"Where were you looking, Neil?" she questioned.

Dr. Watts felt a little angry that she'd question him like this when he was only trying to do a good deed. "Well excuse me for heroically evading that squirrel coming out of nowhere!"

She looked over to the road, he followed her gaze and was sadden to see that he hadn't evaded the squirrel after all. "You ran over it anyways," she told him, making him feel worse.

"Oh," was all he could manage.

"You ran over it and hit a tree..." she sounded more resigned than angry now, at least that was a good thing right?

He tried to assure her that it wasn't so bad, "It was a company car!"

That didn't seem to matter much, and for several more minutes they stood and argued over the car. Finally she simply ordered him to grab their equipment from the car so they could go already. He grabbed it, however it was big and bulky which made it hard to carry. He wished he'd parked closer after all.

The two of them tramped through the woods, climbing up steps that lead to the house. Finally they reached the top, Dr. Watts wanted to stop to catch his breath but Dr. Eva Rosalene would not allow him even a second. They continued walking until they reached the front door of a very large house. Dr. Rosalene knocked on the door while Dr. Watts put the equipment down so he could rest for a moment.

"Not a bad place to retire to," she commented while they waited for someone to answer the door.

Dr. Watts shrugged, "Meh, I could do better."

They continued talking for another minute when a young woman answered the door. Dr. Watts once again hefted the equipment into his arms and followed her into the house.

The woman thanked them for coming on such short notice, introducting herself as Lily, their patient's caretaker. She also introduced her two children, and explained that the owner of the house, Sherlock, allowed them to live there.

Dr. Rosalene asked, "I suppose this Sherlock is our man?"

That name rang a bell, "Sherlock?" Dr. Watts repeated, "As in Sherlock Holmes?"

Lily smiled sadly, "Yes, the famous detective. He's hardly the same man anymore though. He's upstairs with his medical doctor, come on."

She lead them up the stairs, Dr. Watts feeling as though his back would break. As they reached the top of the stairs, the two children began playing a song on the piano below. They didn't have time to appreciate the song though, they had a dying man to attend to.

As they entered the room, Dr. Watts realized what Lily had said. Sherlock Holmes, greatest detective in all of London, was lying old, grey, and dying on the bed. He averted his eyes, instead focusing on setting up the machine.

Dr. Rosalene began speaking with Lily and the doctor, asking how much time Sherlock had left to live while he set everything up. "So you two can grant him any wish, huh?" Lily asked curiously.

"To try, at least." was Eva's answer.

Dr. Watts smiled, "But we always succeed because we're awesome." he replied cheerfully, trying to lighten the mood in the room. A part of him wished Sherlock were awake, so that he might say something enlightening.

"So what's the wish?" Dr. Rosalene asked, they needed to know what they were trying to accomplish here.

Lily glanced over at Sherlock before returning her gaze to the doctor in front of her, "The moon," she said. When Dr. Rosalene voiced her confusion Lily continued, "The moon... He wants to go to the moon."

"Weird wish for someone who didn't know the earth went around the sun." Dr. Watts mused. Dr. Rosalene silenced him with a glare.

Lily asked, rather timidly, "So can you do it?"

Dr. Watts assured her that they could, however Dr. Rosalene was not quite so sure. Changing the subject, she asked if Lily could tell her anything about the patient.

"That... I don't really know much. Sherlock's an odd man, Through the two years that I've worked here, he rarely spoke. He of course as everyone knows, worked as a consulting detective for most of his life. And his husband passed away two years ago. I don't really know many details."

"I know more from reading the papers for Pete's sake!" Dr. Watts berated, once again he was silenced with a glare from his co-worker.

Lily shrugged, "Well, I suppose if you look aroudn the hosue, you may find some more info. I suppose Sherlock wouldn't mind, since he signed for you two."

Dr. Rosalene sighed, running a hand through her long black hair, "Mm, so be it." she said. Walking over to the machine where her partner was still tinkering, she asked, "Alright, which one of us plays detective?"

Immediately Dr. Watts jumped up, "I'll do it! Remember that time I placed Sherlock in our high school musical?"

"I remember you playing Watson..." she replied, raising an eyebrow.

Dr. Watts huffed, "Well, same thing." He instructed her on what to do before heading for the door. Before he left though, the medical doctor handed him a small heart moniter, so that he could keep track of Sherlock's health. Lily also told him that her children would be able to show them around.

He left the room then, heading down the stairs and to the piano where the two children sat, still playing the same song. They looked up at him, looking upset that he'd interrupted their playing. "Wa'cha want?" the little girl, Sarah, asked.

"Hey, your ma told you to show me aroudn the house," he informed them.

The two children grinned cheekily at each other before the girl looked back up at the doctor, "Ok maybe we will."

"Maybe?"

"I just think we need a little convincing, that's all! Wut do ya think, Tommy?"

"Yah!" Tommy, the little boy replied, nodding his head vigerously.

Sighing, rather annoyed that these children were wasting his time, Dr. Watts asked what they wanted. They replied that they wanted a candy cane that their mother had put on a high shelf in the kitchen to save for when they'd done chores. They were too short to reach it themselves, and wanted the doctor to get it for them. For some crazy reason, he agreed to get it for them. Once he agreed, they told him which door was the kitchen and then returned to playing.

Getting the candy cane was no easy feat, and he had to move things around so that he could reach it. However once he delivered the goods, the children complied with his wishes and began showing him around. As they walked through the house, they told him about a strange room in the basement. It was weird apparently, Dr. Watts wanted to see it.

They helped him find the key, which was very cleverly hidden in a copy of the book 'Twilight', before leading him to the basement. He approached the door, suddenly a little afraid of what weird things would be in there. He inserted the key, clicked the lock open, and went inside. The room was pitch black, and he immediately groped around for a light. When he clicked it on, he almost regretted doing so. The entire floor was covered in rabbits.

Oragami rabbits, hundreds of them in all sorts of colors. There was hardly an inch of floor space. There were two boxes as well, probably containing more rabbits. However on top of one, there was a broken music box, on the other, a strange stuffed platypus. He picked up the toy, stuffing it in his lab coat pocket to possibly show his partner later on. It seemed important, even if it wasn't it was still weird and he wanted to show her.

The two children were waiting for him outside the door when he left the room. "Did you see it?" Sarah asked, her eyes wide.

"What do you kids know about those rabbits?" Dr. Watts asked, interrogating them.

Tommy, immediately shook his head, "Nothing!" he said quickly. "The old man didn't want anyone to go inside, so we never told him."

Sarah suddenly seemed to remember something, "There's more of them, actually!"

"Where?" Dr. Watts asked.

"Inside the abandoned lighthouse! It's just beneath this cliff!" Tommy replied knowingly.

The little girl reached into a pocket in her dress and pulled out a ring of keys, "Wanna go see? Look I've got the keys!"

Dr. Watts frowned, "Let me guess, you're not supposed to go in there either?"

When the two children simply giggled, he sighed and agreed to go to the lighthouse. If Sherlock was keeping rabbits there too, perhaps there were other importants things up there about him.

The trek to the lighthouse was long, and Dr. Watts wasn't looking forward to having to trek back up to the house. They had to retrace their steps, going all the way back down to his car and then taking another path up to the cliff where the lighthouse was. They encountered a squirrel on their way, the children named it Teddy.

Finally though, they reached the lighthouse. At the base of it there was a tombstone, Dr. Watts stared at it for a moment. 'In memory of John Watson' it read, "John Watson, huh?" The doctor stayed for a moment to pay his respects, as a kid he'd been a huge fan of John Watson's blog. He vaguely remembered him marrying Sherlock at some point towards the very end of their career.

They entered the lighthouse when the children began getting impatient. There were a lot of stairs, winding up. Dr. Watts wished he had the energy to spare as he gasped and weezed all the way to the top. When they got there, it was incredibly similar to the room in the basement. Rabbits, paper rabbits all over the floor. He had a hard time crossing the room without stepping one, however he was very curious. There was a rabbit different from all the others.

It was blue, with a yellow body. All the others were one color, this one was two colors, and brighter. He was examining it when his cell phone began to ring. A quick glance at the caller i.d. showed it was Eva, who was probably ready to ream him out again for leaving the house.

As expected, she yelled at him and told him to return immediately. Before he left though, he nabbed the two colored paper rabbit. The trip back was slow, and Dr. Watts felt completely drained by the time he got back to Sherlock's room. Why did they have to get calls in the middle of the night, and why did Sherlock have to live in a place that required so much uphill climbing?

Dr. Rosalene was explaining the way the machine worked as he entered the room, so he took the opprotunity to sit on the couch and catch his breath. "The machine does everything really. In a nutshell, our job is to travel through his memories to as early as possible, and when we do, we would then transfer his registered desire of going to the moon to the reconstruction of the world and himself at that early state. And with the help of a wiki of data and his own, the machine would then simulate a rerun. Except this time, he'll have the motivation of his registered desire with him all his life."

"So you'd be depending on him fulfilling his own wish by simply having the desire to?" Lily asked. Dr. Watts could practically see the gears turning in her head as she tried to understand the logic behind what they were explaining. "How could that be?" she asked, "Everyone has ambition for things, but most don't accomplish them."

"That's because in the real world, ambitions fluctuate, and fade" Dr. Rosalene patiently said. "People start things with a passion, but eventually they lose that initial drive and slow down. But imagine if you locked onto that initial push through your entire life, never wavering. It's more powerful than it seems."

Dr. Watts picked up his helmet, running his hands over its smooth surface, "That being said, no ambition's gonna help a dead man. I'd better get started."

He placed the helmet on, closing his eyes and travelling into Sherlock's head. When he reopened his eyes, he was standing in Sherlock's bedroom, except no one was there with them. They were in!

The two doctors travelled downstairs and left the house, seeing as no one was around. They walked up behind the house, following a path. They found Sherlock sitting on the edge of a cliff, overlooking the abandoned lighthouse. The two doctors approached him, ready to introduce themselves, but he heard them and turned around.

"You're here from Sigmund Agency of Life Generation aren't you?"

The two glanced at each other before slowly nodding. He ran a hand through his grey curly hair, which had thinned somewhat in his old age. His eyes also seemed a little less bright than they used to be, as though the raging wildfire that had once driven him had been reduced to a mere smoldering ember.

"So can you do it?" Sherlock asked, leaning back where he sat against a signpost and steepling his fingers under his chin, "Can you get me to the moon?"

Dr. Watts cocked his head, "Why do you want to go to the moon?" he asked.

Sherlock's expression suddenly went blank, and he blinked, "I don't know."

Once again the two doctors shared a look before returning their focus to the retired consulting detective. "It's fine, you can tell us," Dr. Rosalene encouraged, "It's essential for helping us to get you to go there."

"Do you want the fame? The money?" Dr. Watts prodded, although he wasn't sure why Sherlock Holmes would seek what he already had. "You've got to have a motive."

Sherlock's expression remained blank, and he shook his head, "I'm sorry, but I really don't know. I just... do."

Dr. Watts already felt annoyed. Was Sherlock serious or was he just being a pain in the ass? Because most stories about him said he was a pain in the ass most of the time. Maybe he was just trying to make this difficult for his own amusement.

"Nevertheless, Sherlock, here's what we will do," Eva said, "We need to get to your childhood, but it is too distant to do so in one memory hop. Thus we will need to traverse through your memories with gradual backwards leaps."

"Which you've given us the permission to do in the relative future," Dr. Watts chimed in as a reminder.

"Once we've gone all the way back, we'll return here. That's when you'll need to help us influence the childhood you to become an astronaut. That's why you'll need to have more to say about why you want to go when we get back."

Sherlock shrugged, "As long as you can take me to the moon, I will cooperate," he told them.

Dr. Rosalene smiled, "Good. Now in order to go back, we need something that is important to you. A memento."

For a moment, Sherlock seemed to think about this, before he reached into a bad he had sitting in the grass beside him and pulled out a two colored paper rabbit. Dr. Watts stared at the rabbit, why would those rabbits be important? They were so weird?

They used it to go back anyway, and off they went shooting back into Sherlock's memories. Dr. Watts felt very strange, he'd never had a problem doing this before. However this time, he felt wary that things might not be so easy this time.


	2. Chapter 2

**I'll just apologize now for any spelling errors this may have. My computer is dying a slow painful death, and I don' have spell check. It's knda a miracle I can post this story in the first place. **

**Also going to say now that a lot of the dialogue in these early chapters will come right from the game, however later I will be taking stuff from Sherlock and putting in my own diaogue. So uh, there's that. **

**Sherlock and To the Moon to not belong to me! Please leave a review, that'd be lovely. Thanks :)**

* * *

The rabbit brought them to the downstairs area of Sherlock's house. He was seated at the piano, the floor surrounding him covered in paper rabbits. And perched on the piano, was the strange toy platypus that Dr. Watts had grabbed earlier.

Sherlock was playing the song the two children had been playing earlier, only the key was different and the arrangement was much more difficult. The detective stopped playing very suddenly, his eyes misting, before he slammed his hands down on the piano keys angrily and began to weep.

Creeped out by all the rabbits, Dr. Watts and Dr. Rosalene tiptoed their way around them, searching for a memento to use in order to travel further back into his memory. They found it in the form of a battered black umbrella, which sent them flying back in time.

The umbrella was being held by a very sad Sherlock, who stood in front of a freshly made grave. He was also holding the toy platypus, which Neil didn't think had a right to exist. Dr. Watts immediately recognized where they were, however Dr. Rosalene had never seen the place before. It was at the base of the abandoned lighthouse, from the looks of it just after John Watson had died.

After looking around and not finding a mememto, Dr. Watts went into the lighthouse. Dr. Rosalene was about to follow him when suddenly Sherlock began speaking. "It's finished, John. Like you, I'll be able to watch over her everyday. She won't be alone anymore. I might never understand why, but I stayed true to your wish. I'm sure Anya is grateful to you, too. But when I'm gone, who is going to watch over us?"

Dr. Rosalene heard enough, and went up into the lighthouse after her partner. By the time she got up there, Dr. Watts had already gotten the memento and was heading back in time. It didn't take her very long to follow him. The stuffed platypus was what they needed.

It took them back to when John Watson was still alive, although he was abviously dying. He lay in bed, surrounded by paper rabbits on the floor with the platypus propped up beside him on the bed. There was also a book, open face face beside the toy. Sherlock was sitting in a chair at John's side, speaking to him.

"Just enough," he said, "After we pay for your operation, we'll have just enough left for it. So don't you worry."

John looked up at him, a knowing expression on his face. "White lie," he said, his voice so soft it was barely audible. "That's what you call it right?"

Sherlock shook his head, grey curls bouncing, "No, I'm sure we can jus-"

"Stop it now. I don't like it when you lie. I calculated our finances, I know how it's like. Why do you try to convince me against my will?"

Sherlock grabbed John's hand, his eyes pleading, "We need the money for your medical bills, John!" he exclaimed. He paused, before lowering his voice and continuing, "I understand that Anya means a lot to you, but this... This is just too much. I mean she... she isn't even..." it was clear it didn't want to hurt John, however what he needed to say no matter how he worded it surely would.

John closed his eyes for a moment, before reopening them and looking up at Sherlock, "Do you know what makes me happy, Sherlock?"

"What?" Sherlock asked, confused for a moment by the sudden question.

"Do you?" John asked, more insistently.

When Sherlock made it clear he didn't know, John looked away from him, staring at the ceiling instead as though the answer were written there. "Well, I do. I just, hope you can help me with it."

"John..." Sherlock moaned, not liking the conversation one bit.

His partner didn't look at him, keeping his gaze on the ceiling. "When the papers for my treatments get here, I won't sign them. What you do with our money is up to you, but if you would grant my wish, I want you to use it to finish building that house." John paused, taking a deep breath and smiling wistfully, "And then, for every day that you live there, I want you to watch over her. Visit her, speak to her, comfort her. I don't want her to be alone anymore."

"And what about you?" Sherlock asked, squeezing John's hand. John looked over at him, before closing his eyes, "Happy. I'll be happy, Sherlock." John was silent for a moment, and Sherlock thought he had fallen asleep when suddenly he opened his eyes and asked, "Sherlock?"

"Yes?" he immediately replied.

John reached under the blankets, pulling out a paper rabbit, "I made this." Sherlock took the paper rabbit, and Dr. Watts knew it was the one that was two different colors. "Tell me what it is," John said.

Once again, Sherlock was confused, "What?"

"Just tell me what it is," John repeated.

Baffled, Sherlock stared down at the rabbit in his hands, trying to deduce something out of it, anything. "It's a rabbit, like all the others you made," he said slowly, looking at John for approval. The army doctor closed his eyes and hummed in approval, "What else?" he prodded.

Sherlock stared at it for a long while, looking at it from all angles. "Um, it's made of paper," he said, he could tell where the paper was made and where John had gotten it from but he didn't think that was what the dying doctor was looking for in his answer.

"What else?" John asked again, Sherlock seemed to be getting annoyed with whatever game his husband seemed to be playing.

"Its body is yellow, and the rest is blue."

John seemed to really like that, for he smiled, "Good. What else?"

For the final time, Sherlock examined the rabbit. What was John looking for? What was he supposed to say? "Look, John," he finally said, putting the rabbit down off to the side with all the others, "I wrote a song. It's for you."

John opened his eyes and looked at Sherlock, before finally saying, "Okay."

The lack of enthusiasm put Sherlock off for a moment, and he awkwardly asked, "Well, do you want to hear it?"

"Yes," came John's soft and simple reply. Sherlock walked over to the piano that he'd brought upstairs to their room, John's voice called out to him, "You didn't have to bring the piano in here for this. I can hear you just fine with the door open."

Sherlock didn't acknowledge that, he wanted to play this song for John in the bedroom, and so he would. He sat down on the bench and looked over the piano at where his husband lay, "It's called, 'For John'."

John chuckled at this, "Why so chiche?" he asked.

The detective shrugged, "It's, just a placeholder," he replied. He didn't really want to admit to John that in his old age it was getting difficult to come up with the witty sayings he once had. He began playing then, the same song he had been playing in the earlier memory. Dr. Watts looked over at his partner, "I got the memento, want to go back with me?"

She nodded and the two of them were again zooming back in time, both a little disheartened by what they'd seen. Eva hoped that the next memory would be at least slightly better than the last. It wasn't.

They found themselves at the house overlooking the lighthouse, however it had only been partially built. It was just a frame at this point. They walked around to the front, Sherlock sat against the building looking worn. A girl approached, who looked to be about the same age as him. "Greg called and said I should come," she said.

She walked over and sat down next to him, "I brought you pickled olives. They're your favourite, right?" she asked, handing him the jar. Sherlock set it aside and continued to ignore her, she continued talking, "I heart about John," she said. "Will he be okay?"

Finally Sherlock decided to speak, he glanced over at the girl, "His illness was just diagnosed in its late stage. Fortunately, it's treatable. But the medical bills..." he trailed off. Looking down and taking a deep breath, he forced himself to keep going, "We can't afford to finish building this house, Molly. We can barely afford to pay for his treatment. I'm just relieved that he'll be okay, but..." once again he trailed off.

"You don't know how much this place means to him. He's going to be heartbroken."

Molly looked sadly at him, "I'd help, but my husband and I have been barely getting by," she paused, looking as though she wanted to comfort him but not exactly sure how. "What are you going to do now?" she finally asked.

Sherlock looked conflicted, "I'm... I'm going to tell him we can make it. I'm going to tell him we can afford everything. I don't want him to do anything crazy."

"You shouldn't lie to him," Molly told him.

At this Sherlock suddenly got angry, and he narrowed his eyes at her, "You don't understand, Molly! If he foudn out, I'm not sure which he'd choose!"

"So what?" Molly asked gently, "If he chooses not to save himself for the sake of this place, then so be it. It's what he really wants."

"Do you think it's all about her?" Sherlock demanded, "What about me, Molly? After all these years helping other people, am I not allowed to be selfish even once?" He took a deep breath to steady himself, though it didn't help much. "I don't want to be alone, Molly," he said brokenly.

He stood up suddenly, "I'm not going to let him die!"

"That's arrogant," Molly chided, as though scolding a child.

Sherlock shot back an equally childish, "I don't care," before beginning to walk away.

"Where are you going?" she asked, standing up herself.

He didn't look back at her as he answered, "I'm going to pick something from this cliff to bring back to him. It'll at least give him some comfort."

Molly frowned, crossing her arms over her chest, "That doesn't make what you're doing any less wrong!" She reached into her bag and pulled out a music box, setting it on the ground in his direction, "Greg wanted me to give you this," she said, winding it. A pretty little tinkering melody began to play. "He said it's called 'Everything's Alright'."

Sherlock turned and looked at the music box in disgust before turning away again, "It isn't." With that, he walked away from her, up behind the house to the cliff that overlooked the lighthouse. Molly watched him go sadly, but there was nothing she could do. The two doctors were tempted to follow him, but decided against it. Instead they used the pickled olives to leap further back into his memories.

They arrived in a cafe, with four people sitting at a booth together. Sherlock and John sat together on one side, Molly and a grey haired man sat on the other side. He was speaking just as the doctors sat themselves at a table just within hearing distance.

"So you guys are really going for it, eh?" the grey haired man asked.

John Watson smiled cheerfully, "Yeah! The constructions starting in just a few months! It's a bit of a squeeze, we had to use all the money from doing cases and split the payment. But with financing, we'll make do."

Molly smiled, leaning her cheek on her hand, "How wonderful, having your dream house built at such a pretty site."

"You guys had your wedding at that lighthosue near there all those years ago, didn't you?" the grey haired man asked, smiling fondly at the memory.

John turned to look at Sherlock, nudging him affectionately "That's not all that's special about it, Lestrade. We have a long history with that place. Right?" Sherlock merely nodded his head in response, he seemed to have something on his mind.

The grey haired man, now identified as Lestrade, laughed and said, "Well, it's good to have some good news at a get-together for once! Cheers and congratulations you two!"

John held up his drink, "Hey, cheers mate!"

Everyone took a drink before Molly stood up, "I'll be right back, I'm going to go get some fresh air."

John immediately stood up, "You feeling ok? You want me to go with you?" he asked. When Molly nodded the two of them left, leaving Sherlock and Lestrade sitting alone at the table.

Lestrade cleared his throat, in order to get Sherlock's attention. "Well Sherlock, it's sure been a while." he said, trying to start a conversation. Ever since they had all retired from working at Scotland Yard, they hadn't spoken to each other much.

Sherlock merely nodded, Lestrade tried harder, "John certainly hasn't changed much. He's hasn't aged a day. Unlike you Sherlock, your hair's goin' grey, mate," he chuckled. He grew more somber after a moment, "Oh hey, so did you tell John that thing from back then?"

"I did," Sherlock merely replied, his words heavy.

Immediately Lestrade picked up that something was wrong, and became more serious, "How did he take it?" he asked.

Sherlock swallowed uneasily, "For the most part, he took it well." He looked up at Lestrade, and the older man was shocked to see how aged he looked. Sherlock had once been so vibrant, and full of energy. Now he looked completely drained, and his eyes lacked the sharpness they once had.

"Something changed though, something weird. Ever since the incident, he's been making these strange rabbits out of paper," Sherlock confessed.

Lestrade raised an eyebrow, "Oragami rabbits?" he asked. Sherlock nodded and Lestrade smiled reassuringly, "Hah, I used to fold oragami animals for my daughter all the time. What's wrong with that?"

Sherlock shook his head, "I don't think this is the same thing. He's been doing nothing but making the same rabbits, day in and day out. Our flat is literally filled with them now..."

Lestrade seemed as puzzled as Sherlock. That was rather, odd. Perhaps John's PTSD was kicking in and he was using it as a coping tactic. When he pointed this out Sherlock shook his head, "No, something is wrong with this picture. When I ask him about it, he never answers. Instead, he gets this distant look in his eyes. It's as though he expects something from me, and oddly enough, I feel as though there's something I'm supposed to say too."

"Have you asked Molly about it?" he asked.

Sherlock nodded, "Yes. She said she talked to him about it, but got nothing."

Taking another sip of his drink, Lestrade shrugged, "Well, I'm certainly not one to inquire. But I'll tell you this: I've known you since you were just a teen, and you're notorious for overthinking. That's what got you in trouble with Moriarty isn't it? You're probably just looking too deeply into it, seeing things that don't mean anything. There's no point in getting worked up about it."

"Usually when someone says that, something's always wrong," Sherlock replied quickly. After another moment to think about it, he sighed, "I'll give you the benefit of the doubt Lestrade, perhaps for once in your life you're right."

Lestrade looked insulted, "Once in my life? I've been right about a lot of things Sherlock!"

Dr. Watts and Dr. Rosalene had heard about enough, and decided to jump back farther. Freezing everything in place, they searched Sherlock for a momento, finding a piece of paper folded in his coat pocket. They quickly jumped into the next memory, Dr. Watts hoped they would find out what the deal was with those rabbits soon. They were so very bizarre.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer, Sherlock and To the Moon do not belong to me. Yep, that's about it. Pudding for all those who review! Thanks a bunch :)**

* * *

The two doctors arrived at the lighthouse, the paper was nailed to the door of it. It appeared the lighthouse had recently been abandoned, the windows were boarded up and the light at the top no longer worked. The two doctors for some reason, ended up on the shabby roof.

Dr. Watts immediately began to panic, "Crikey Nutcrackers!"

Eva looked over at him, raising an eyebrow, "You aren't Australian."

"Who cares!?" Neil asked, wide eyed and frantic, "We're like 20 billion nanometers off the ground and standing on a damn flag pole!"

His partner rolled her eyes, "Just jump down. It's not like you can get hurt here."

He shook his head, "Are you kidding me, it's a fricken sky-dive! You can't stay on here, you can't get off. God, I hate it when this happens!"

As he rambled he failed to notice Dr. Rosalene walk behind him. He just continued talking, and it was incredibly easy for her to shove him off the roof. He shouted profanity at her when he landed and she laughed, "Wuss."

Both doctors safely on the ground, they were able to see and hear Sherlock and John as they looked at the paper that had been posted. John looked very upset, "Why would they abandon her like this?"

Sherlock didn't seem to care much, he stuffed his hands in his coat pockets and shrugged, "No longer needed by ships I suppose, with GPS and lights and such. Only an idiot like Anderson would crash into a cliff like this anymore."

When John didn't respond Sherlock approached the lighthouse, taking the paper down, "Look John," he said, turning to face his partner. "This place means a lot to me too, and I've been thinking. In our current state, things have been pretty stable. We have a lot of money from our cases, and with Mycroft's recent death I've gotten all of his funds and full access to my own accounts. If we're mindful with our money, in a few years we could afford to build a house on top of here. It's going to be a squeeze but I'm sure-"

John cut him off, smiling brightly, "We'd be able to see her from the window!" he said excitedly. "In the morning, at night, we'd always be nearby! And we could walk here any time! She'll never be alone again Sherlock!" He threw himself into his husband's arm, squeezing him tightly. Sherlock wrapped his arms around John in return. "I'll be able to watch over her every day!" he said.

Sherlock hummed, "Yeah, we will." At this point the doctors decided to move on, walking down towards the road. Dr. Watts was slightly put-off by what he'd seen, and voiced it to Eva, "So John Watson put off treatment for the sake of a lighthouse?"

Eva just sighed, "Hush Neil." They found a paper rabbit sitting near the side of the road by the car, likely placed there by John. It didn't take long for them to use that in order to jump to the next memory.

They arrived in Sherlock and John's flat, Sherlock was upstairs playing the violin. He placed the instrument down on the bed after a moment and turned to leave the room, when he spotted a paper rabbit on the floor, the very paper rabbit that they had used to leap back into the memory with. He approached it, picking it up and examining it, before sighing tossing it onto the bed with his instrument. "John?" he called, heading downstairs.

The doctors ventured downstairs after Sherlock. He seemed more like himself now, with his head full of jet-black curls and his sharp, calculating eyes. Dr. Watts felt himself growing excited, that meant they were close to when the famous duo were solving crimes together!

When they got downstairs to the living area, they spotted a box of papers and the baby grand piano that Sherlock had played when John was dying. They stood and look at it, musing how he managed to get it up the stairs. Dr. Watts decided that it would be easy if they used the TARDIS, however Eva speculated that it would be difficult to get it through the door. They both agreed they wouldn't mind an entire episode of Doctor Who dedicated to getting a piano through the door though.

Moving on, they entered the dining room where John was sitting at the table, covered in dozens of rabbits, the platypus was sitting on a box next to him. He was in the proccess of making one when Sherlock approached him. The consulting detective examined his partner, "You went out for a haircut this early in the morning?" he asked.

When John didn't answer, Sherlock looked around the room, looking uneasy. "What're you making there?" he asked.

"Rabbits," John replied simply, not even bothering to look up. "Did you see the rabbit I left for you?"

Sherlock nodded, "Yeah."

John glanced up at Sherlock, smiling faintly before returning his focus to his work, "Tell me about that rabbit." Sherlock voiced his confusion, not understanding why John wanted him to tell him what he must already know.

"Describe the rabbit," John rephrased.

Sherlock, ever ready to please his husband, immediately began to list things off about the rabbit, "It was yellow," he said.

"What else?" John asked.

"A bit puffy."

"And?"

"There were two creases on the ears, from where you messed up. The paper was recycled, made in the United States. And you cut your finger while you were making it, but didn't bleed much. However you still smudged a bit of blood on one of the edges," Sherlock recited.

John looked up at him expectantly, "What else?" he asked.

At this Sherlock felt as though he'd been slapped in the face. The disappointment on John's face when it was clear he had no more to say about it made him hurt further. What was he missing? "Well... It's just a paper rabbit John! There is nothing else to say about it!"

John didn't say anything to that, just continued working on the oragami rabbit in his hand as though he hadn't even heard Sherlock. Sherlock approached the table, placing his hands on it and leaning over it in an attempt to get John to look up, "You're acting strange, John. Is something wrong?"

"John?" he repeated, when there was once again no answer. John still didn't answer him, and so Sherlock turned, defeated, and left the room. The doctors decided it was time to go back even further, mostly because Dr. Watts was getting weirded out by the rabbits and Dr. Rosalene was beginning to think that John Watson was a looney. The platypus brought them back in time further.

It was sitting in the back of a car, leaving the two doctors out in the middle of the woods, They began heading towards the cliff overlooking the lighthouse, knowing the couple would be there. Indeed they were, sitting on a log side by side. Sherlock was just finishing telling John something, and the army doctor was listening attentively.

"Is that why you offered me to share a flat back then?" John asked.

Sherlock nodded, "Yeah," he said, sounding a bit guilty about it.

John looked at him, "What about now?"

"I suppose it's just a part of it," Sherlock replied, meeting his husband's gaze. He took John's hand in his own, "It was a long time ago, John. It's not too relevant now, but Molly thought I shold tell you. I shouldn't have tainted our first meeting like that."

After a moment of silence John jumped off the log, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a bright orange hacky sack. He tossed it at Sherlock, who caught it and turned it over in his hands. "A hacky sack?" Sherlock asked, confused.

"Can you throw that as far as where Anya's at?" John asked.

Sherlock shrugged, "I don't know. You want me to try?"

John nodded, "Would you? I'd try myself but my shoulder aches a bit."

Winding his arm back, Sherlock pitched it in the direction of the lighthouse, John ran over to the cliff to see how far it would go and Sherlock immediately shouted, "John! Are you insane, get away from there!"

When the hacky sack disappeared from view, John backed away from the cliff and sat down on the log once more. It didn't seem like much more would happen, especially considering this memory wasn't too far from the last. The doctors used Sherlock's bag, which was sitting nearby, to go back in time further.

Three people were sitting in the back room of a library. Sherlock sat on one side, and two other men sat on the other. One Dr. Watts immediately recognized as a younger Greg Lestrade, the other he wasn't sure about at all.

"Are you sure about this Sherlock?" the unidentified man asked.

Sherlock nodded, "I'm sure Mycroft, I want to settle down with John. His nightmares are exhausting him, he's starting to feel sore, and it's just not as easy for him to chase criminals around London as it used to be. He is slowing down, I'm sure I will be slowing down too in a matter of time."

"I think you're throwing in the towel too soon Sherlock, you've got a lot of years left in you. I'm concerned you won't have enough stimulating your mind, John hates when you're bored. I believe it is in your best interest if you continue to consult for Scotland Yard, with or without John. You don't need him with you do you? You solved plenty of cases before he came around." Mycroft said.

"I need him with me. However Lestrade, you are always welcome to send cases you are unsure about. I just will not be chasing criminals for you anymore. You will have to do that yourselves."

Lestrade nodded, "I think we'll manage Sherlock, thank you for everything though. You're doing this rather smartly, slipping away quietly while the press is distracted with that scandal with the Prime Minister"

"You're welcome for that opprotunity by the way, little brother," Mycroft added.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "I'm sure the chance would have arisen with or without your help, brother. Thank you anyway though."

Mycroft stood, picking up his brolly. He was using it as a cane now, in his old age walking was incredibly painful. Sherlock had a feeling his brother had only remained in his government position this long so that he could help him out this final time. Sherlock stood with him, "I should go see what John is looking as, so I'll assist you to the door."

"Goodbye Inspector," the brothers said.

Lestrade waved and bid them goodbye before standing and heading out the door in front of them. Sherlock and Mycroft followed, much more slowly. When they reached the door they looked to make sure no one was looking before embracing each other, "Take care of yourself Sherly,"

"You as well Mycroft," Sherlock replied, uncharacteristically warmly. With that, Mycroft left the library and was helped into his car by his assistant. Sherlock watched him go, then went to find John. He had a book in his hand that his seemed to be very interested in. "Anything new today?" Sherlock asked.

John shook his head, "No," he replied.

Sherlock smiled, "What are you rereading then?" he asked his partner.

John smiled in return and held up the book for Sherlock to see. "'The Emporer's New Clothes', I loved this when I was young."

"Still do," Sherlock said, though he didn't understand why John liked the children's story so much. Sherlock remembered his brother reading the story to him, and he thought the Emporer was an idiot.

"Of course!" John replied, he closed the book, running his hands over the cover and becoming a bit more serious, "Just for different reasons."

Sherlock looked down, "When I was a kid, I loved the Animorphs series," he confessed.

John nodded, "I know. Your Mum gave you a book from it as a wedding present."

"That was an odd wedding present. I guess I was pretty into it when I was a kid, must have been after my pirate phase."

"Why haven't you read them since?" John asked, looking up at Sherlock. Sherlock hummed, and John continued, "I saw them. They're collecting dust on the shelf in the corner downstairs."

Sherlock felt as though he were being attacked slightly, as though not reading the book was some kind of abuse or something. He looked away from John, "Well, I just grew out of them. More important thing to do, cases to solve, criminals to chase, idiots to antagonize. They're children's books John, who has time for that?"

"What's wrong with children's books?" John snapped, his grip on the book tightening slightly, "They're comforting.

Not wanting to get into a fight, since Sherlock knew he wouldn't win anyway, he simply said, "I suppose, John."

"I think I'm going to get this one," John announced after a moment, though he still looked mildly irritated with Sherlock. The doctors used the book to jump back in time, Dr. Watts just wanted to see Sherlock Holmes and John Watson kicking badguy ass!


	4. Chapter 4

**Sherlock and To The Moon do not belong to me. Hope you're enjoying the story so far. Reviews still welcome, like they have been for the past 3 chapters. Thank you lovely readers :)**

* * *

They arrived at a wedding that was ending, the book they'd used was sitting on the table. It was a small wedding, with a few people the pair of doctors recognized. Molly, Lestrade, Mycroft, and a very old and frail looking woman in a wheelchair. They walked up towards the lighthouse, where John and Sherlock were sitting against it.

"Do you feel any different?" Sherlock asked, "Now that we got the rings on, I mean?"

John looked over at Sherlock before shaking his head, "Not really. Why do you?" he asked.

Sherlock seemed to think for a moment before saying, "Actually, Yeah I think so."

"Well? What's it like then?"

"It's just, different. Just more official, I suppose."

"How about responsibilities, Sherlock?"

Sherlock only grunted and rolled his eyes to that, causing John to laugh. Suddenly he looked up at the lighthouse, then back at Sherlock, "Do you like the name 'Anya'?"

The consulting detective didn't respond, so John prodded him, "Would you, like to name her 'Anya'?"

Sherlock looked at John, almost sadly, before looking down, "I understand," he merely replied. After giving it another moment of thought he finally nodded, "Yeah, Anya's a good name for her." Suddenly Sherlock got an idea, and he leapt to his feet, "John! Come with me!"

He opened the door to the lighthouse and bounded inside, John followed more slowly behind. Together they raced up the stairs, all the way to the top where the light turned on. Sherlock took John into his arms, smiling.

"This can't be a good iea, I'll probably trip and fall," John said, chuckling.

Sherlock laughed too, "Don't worry, just follow my steps."

Slowly they began to dance together, Sherlock leading his new husband. John was trying not to step all over him, however one bad move sent the two of them sprawling on the floor. "Ow! My ass!" Sherlock exclaimed, John burst into a fit of laughter. Sherlock began howling with laughter as well, "I think you stepped on my toes!"

"Sorry!" John said, trying to catch his breath.

Sherlock waved him off, "No no, it's fine. Want to try again?" he asked.

John shook his head, crawling on top of Sherlock and planting a kiss on his lips, "I have something else in mind, actually."

Instead of going forward in time as the sun rose, they went back to the day before. Sherlock and John stood before each other in front of the lighthouse, with a priest. The congregation was small, mostly consisting of Scotland Yarders and people Sherlock and John had helped in the past.

The two partners took their vows, and kissed passionately in front of everyone. Lestrade whistled from his place as John's best man, Molly and the old lady in the wheelchair blushed furiously, and Mycroft rolled his eyes from his position as Sherlock's best man, however he seemed genuinely happy for his brother and new brother in law.

Eva turned as she heard a sniffle beside her. Dr. Watts was furiously wiping his cheeks with the sleeve of his lab coat. "I'm bad at weddings, fluids tend to escape from my eyes," he said.

Dr. Rosalene smiled, "I didn't know you were that sentimental," she said.

Dr. Watts shook his head, "Oh, did I say my eyes? I meant my mouth. And by fluids I meant both fluids and solids,"

"That's a lovely image, thanks Neil," Dr. Rosalene said, turning away from him and shuddering slightly. She told him that they should find a memento to travel back with, and Dr. Watts readily agreed.

They walked down, away from the lighthouse and down to the reception. People were sitting at tables, talking cheerfully with one another. They walked over to the table where John and Sherlock were sitting, listening to a conversation.

"Oh, I'd better go see how your aunt is doing," an old woman said. Sherlock nodded, "Alright Mummy, tell her thanks for coming."

She nodded, "I will. I'm so proud of you Sherringford," she said, before turning and walking away.

Lestrade, who was sitting across from the couple, looked confused, "Sherringford?" he asked.

Sherlock just shrugged, "It's just my grandfather's name. He passed away before I was born, Mummy calls me by it as my nickname,"

"How come you never told me about it?" the elderly lady in the wheelchair asked.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, shovelling a forkfull of wedding cake into his mouth. "Because I'd rather you call me Sherlock, Mrs. Hudson," he replied.

John smacked him, "Don't talk with your mouth full Sherlock, what are you four?"

Mrs. Hudson just smiled, "Oh that's alright dearies, I'm glad you like it so much. It's a bit difficult to make a cake now, I was glad you asked me though. Was bored out of my mind I was!"

The two doctors left then, walking down towards the road where they saw Sherlock and John hovering over a rabbit that had been hit in the road.

"It can't be helped John, it's just a rabbit and it's been dead for hours, hit by a semi by the looks of it. Now hurry up, we'll be late," Sherlock said. John sighed sadly before following Sherlock away. The doctors used the dead rabbit to leap back in time.

They arrived in a lab of some sort, where a dead rabbit that looked very similar to the one they'd just seen was lying in a cage, Dr. Watts looked around in awe while Dr. Rosalene was unimpressed. "What?" she asked.

"This is Baskerville! One of the best cases Sherlock and John ever did together! Come on!" Dr. Watts, said, leading Eva through the maze of halls. They arrived in one of the labs, and watched as John wandered around with a flashlight, searching for something. He swiped his card and disappeared through a door for a moment, then returned.

The minute the other door closed behind him the lights flashed on very suddenly, blinding the army doctor, then an alarm began going off. John attempted to leave the room, however his card wouldn't work. Suddenly everything went off, and loud snarling and growling was heard. They watched as John crawled into a cage, trying desperately to call Sherlock.

He thought that something was going to get him, however the only thing that got him was Sherlock. John panicked, told Sherlock that he'd seen the hound. However Sherlock told him he was wrong. It was a drug. The two crime solvers left to discover what that drug was.

Eva rolled her eyes, "Of course you would read about a guy who was a total arse to his partner," she said. Dr. Watts was chuckling, "What? It was funny!"

They searched around, coming across a bag. They used Sherlock's cellphone to jump back in time further. The phone brought them back to another case. Sherlock's phone was in his pocket as he entered an indoor swimming pool.

Dr. Watts was practically screaming and fangirling as Moriarty stepped out with John covered in semtax. "IT'S MORIARTY! Oh, My, God! Do you even know Eva? You don't even know!"

Eva sighed, "I don't know, and I don't care. Come on, we need to go, we're running out of time." They walked into a locker room, where Sherlock had left his coat and scarf before entering the pool area. They used the coat to jump back further in time.

They arrived at a resturant, where Sherlock had shed his coat as he sat down with John. A man, who looked rather questionable in Dr. Rosalene's opinion, told them he'd bring a candle to the table since it would be more romantic.

"I'm not his date!" John said, from the look on his face he'd said that a lot recently. Sherlock put his menu on the other side of the table and shifted himself so he could see out the window they were sitting by.

"You may as well eat, we might have a long wait," Sherlock told him. The man then came back, set the candle on the table, and gave John a thumbs up, causing Dr. Watts to sputter into a fit of giggles.

"Thanks..." John sighed, he seemed to feel very unsure about the whole situation he was in so he shifted his gaze to the menu. Finally John seemed to gather the courage to start a conversation, "People don't have arch-enemies,"

Sherlock did a double take, staring at John, "I'm sorry?" he asked. He hadn't really been listening, suddenly John had just started talking.

"In real life," John repeated, "There are no arch-enemies in real life. Doesn't happen."

"Doesn't it?" Sherlock asked, returning his gaze to the window, "Sounds a bit dull."

"So who did I meet?" John asked.

"What do real people have then, in their real lives?" Sherlock asked, completely ignoring John's question.

"Friends?" John said, nodding, "You know people they know people they like, people they don't like. Girlfriends, boyfriends."

Sherlock cut him off, "Yes well, as I was saying. Dull."

"You don't have a girlfriend then?"

Girlfriend? No. Not really my area."

John nodded, looking down for a brief second before looking back up at Sherlock, "Alright. Do you have a boyfriend?" That got Sherlock to turn and look at him, "Which is fine by the way," John added.

"I know it's fine!" Sherlock said quickly.

Awkward silence, "So you got a boyfriend?"

"No." Sherlock replied before John could even finish the question.

"Right, ok." Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows in confusion as John struggled with the conversation he was trying to make. "So you're unattached, like me." John said, eyes down at the table. "Right, good."

Sherlock turned to face the window but continued to look at John out of the corner of his eye for a moment. After a long moment Sherlock finally turned to John, "John, erm," now the tables had turned and Sherlock was the one unsure of what to say.

John immediately looked up at him as Sherlock continued, "I think you should know that I consider myself married to my work and while I'm flattered by your offer-" John immediately stopped him.

"No, no, I'm not asking... no," John said, shaking his head, "I'm just saying, it's all fine."

Sherlock nodded once, "Good," he said simply before looking out the window once more, "Thank you."

"Married to his work?" Dr. Watts asked skeptically.

Dr. Rosalene ignored him and instead used John's cane to send them further back in time. This time they were sent back to a lab of some sort, where Sherlock was standing near a microscope looking at something as John limped into the room.

The conversation that followed was brief, at least for the doctors, since they ended up leaving the room. They followed Sherlock all the way to the address, 221B Baker Street, where he began to converse with the landlady, Mrs. Hudson, over a cup of tea.

"He's just so normal, but there's something about him. He had a platypus on his person, I didn't want to say anything because his friend was standing there, but that's odd. Why would such a normal person carry that with them?"

"A platypus?" Mrs. Husdon asked, standing by the counter and mixing a cake batter. "How is he normal carrying around a platypus. Where would you find a normal person to live with anyhow Sherlock?"

"You're normal," Sherlock pointed out.

Mrs. Hudson chuckled, "Yes well you don't live with me do you deary?"

Sherlock shrugged, taking a sip of tea, "No. But I want a normal person to live with,"

"You don't seem like someone who wants to be with someone like that Sherlock. He just sits and stands around?"

"Yeah, isn't that fantastic?" Sherlock asked.

"Won't you get bored of him? I would hate to see you chase out this poor man like you did the last three before being thrown out of your old flat altogether," Mrs. Hudson said.

Sherlock shook his head, "I won't get bored. I just, I don't want to be a freak anymore. I don't want to be that weirdo who identifies murders just by looking at their thumb. John Watson, being with him, a normal person, I'll look normal too."

"How would being with him change your own identity Sherlock? You'd just be an incredibly bright person who lives with a normal person," Mrs. Hudson told him as she began pouring the batter into cupcake cups.

"He's not just normal though Mrs. Hudson, there's something different about him!"

"Sherlock, do you know if he considers himself normal? Perhaps he isn't as normal as you think, perhaps he'll want to be like you instead."

"No, he'll never be smart enough to be like me. Look, I know what I need. And he's the one who has it!"

Mrs. Hudson looked over at him, "So you want this John for what he has, but not for him?" she asked. When Sherlock didn't answer she shook her head, "That's cruel Sherlock. I just hope you know what you're doing."

Sherlock stood up, "I do," he declared, pulling on his coat.

"I think you're wrong, though," she told him, puting the cupcakes in the oven. "No one is really normal. Everyone's unique in some way."

The young man rolled his eyes, "That's just what grandmothers tell you," he said. He put on his scarf and then left the flat, thanking Mrs. Hudson for the tea over his shoulder.

Dr. Watts made his way upstairs, "If we don't find a leaping memento, we'll take forever!" he said. Dr. Rosalene agreed, and the two of them made their way to Sherlock's bedroom. There was a poster of the table of elements on the wall, they used that to jump back once more. Hopefully, back into his childhood.


	5. Chapter 5

**Ok, it starts getting sad here. So uh, be prepared for that. Also, longer chapter than the last couple. I do not own Sherlock or To The Moon. Enjoy, don't forget to say hi in the reviews!**

* * *

They arrived very close to childhood, but not close enough. They seemed to be in Sherlock's teenage years. The poster was hanging on the wall in Sherlock's room as he lay on the bed in a drug induced haze. Mycroft sat beside him, placing a wet washcloth on his head.

"Keep quiet Sherlock, I'll be right back," he said, slipping out of the room. He walked down the stairs to the kitchen, where their mother was making something. "Sherlock isn't feeling well Mummy, but don't worry. He'll be well again by the morning. I'll take care of him," he said, keeping his face unreadable. Not that it would matter, it didn't seem their mother was looking to see if he lied.

"Poor Sherringford. Thank you Mycroft, you are so helpful," she said, looking over at him and smiling fondly. She looked back down at what she was doing, "My baby boys, growing up so fast."

Mycroft went back up the stairs and returned to Sherlock's bedside, picking up a book. "Sherlock, you can't do this anymore. If Mummy finds out what you're doing her mind will go! You can't do this, I will send you to rehab if you don't stop!"

"Not a problem," Sherlock mumbled, Mycroft nearly slapped him.

"This is a problem Sherlock! If you overdose..." he trailed off, grabbing his brother's hand and holding it tightly. "I can't lose you Sherlock," he said brokenly, holding back tears. Searching the room for another memento, they found a wooden pirate sword. That would get them back to his childhood, they hoped.

Their hopes were dashed when they arrived in the middle of nowhere. Everywhere was white, blank, empty. There were no sounds, there was just nothing. Dr. Watts wrinkled his nose, "It smells like roadkill, ew." He looked around the barren place they'd landed in, "... Where are we?" When his partner didn't respond he looked over at her, "Eva?"

She was staring at something, he turned to look and his eyes widened. They were standing outside the memory! They walked over to the edge of their white space, staring out into a black void. There were houses, but where the street should have been was just a dark expanse of nothing. The two doctors stared at it in wonder.

Eva sighed, "There must be a malfunction within the machine's ADG."

Neil groaned, "Again?!" he whined, "I thought the last fix was foolproof for another half year! I can't believe those idiots in the maintenence department."

Dr. Rosalene looked over at him, "Look, don't worry, we've already gotten the teenage years saved. We might still be able to do this."

They decided that they'd gone back as far as they could go, and returned to the present day. Dr. Watts was disappointed though, he was looking forward to it. They returned to the cliff overlooking the lighthouse, where the old Sherlock was sitting. He looked up at them, "And that's all I know. Sorry I can't be of more help," he said.

The two doctors assured him that they would make do with what they'd gotten, and that the only thing left to do was link his desire to go to the moon with his memory as a teenager. Then once that was done, he'd be going to the moon in no time.

As they turned to begin their work, Sherlock called out to them, "I have a question!" The two doctors returned their attention to him and he continued, "You can alter this world, can you not simply make things happen, and fulfil my wish here and now?"

Dr Watts shook his head, "That would work, if this were your one true set of memories."

"What do you mean?" Sherlock asked, confused. "What is this, then? What am I?"

"This is just a copy, a canvas for us to work with if you will," Dr. Watts explained, "As for you, you are merely an algorithm traced from Sherlock. Enough to reflect his likeness, but far from complete." Sherlock seemed to contemplate this as the doctor continued, "All we can do is to prepare this canvas in a logically consistent way. And then, when we transfer your registered desire to your childhood, the machine will generate your new life, one where the desire dictates your behavior. The result of that, would then be written to the real Sherlock."

"So you see, even if we satisfy you, you are merely a 'read-only' program. I mean, we could reset you over and over again, and-"

Dr. Rosalene cut him off, "That's enough."

The two of them began to argue before Eva forced them to go. The next part of their job was a little difficult. They had to link everything back as far as they could using the mementos they'd travelled with. Old Sherlock and recently retired Sherlock linked up with flowers, then that Sherlock linked the the previous one with paper rabbits. That Sherlock linked to the recently married, crime solving Sherlock with a book, and that Sherlock linked to the teenage Sherlock via a clock. Once they were all linked, the desire that old Sherlock had was transfered to the teenage one. Flipping the switch, they returned to admire their handy work.

However, everything looked exactly the same. Sherlock still married John, John still made rabbits. The two doctors began to question themseves, and wondered if they'd done something wrong. They returned to the first memory they had come into, of Sherlock sitting at the cliff, and everything was exactly the same, right down to the way he greeted them. They immediately froze everything, Dr. Rosalene going to check and make sure everything was right.

When she got back, she asked if anything had changed. Nothing had, even though the desire had successfully transfered. It was then decided that they would need a trigger, so they split up. Dr. Rosalene went to the Baskerville lab, and instead of chemical warfare though, the lab was about space. Nothing changed, absolutely nothing.

Dr. Watts went to teenage Sherlock's school, attempting to lecture the group of students as a NASA recruiter. Sherlock showed no interest in going to the moon, in fact he threw multiple insults at the doctor and made him the laughing stock of the school. They tried more, walking in at random points in Sherlock and Watson's lives to talk about space. The wedding, many of their cases, even when John was making the rabbits. Nothing changed, not a single thing. They decided to take a break, and turned off the machine.

They had been at it all night, Dr. Rosalene decided to go watch the sunrise from the cliff while Dr. Watts made phone calls. As Eva sat alone, she questioned what had gone wrong. Was it the machine, or was it something Sherlock did that they missed which kept preventing him from wanting to go to the moon? Why did Sherlock even want to go there? There was a memory where Sherlock told John just how irrelevent he thought the solar system was.

Not getting anywhere, she decided to go see if Dr. Watts had made any progress. She wrinkled her nose, the smell of the squirrel Neil had run over was permeating the air. Eva entered the house and walked up the Sherlock's bedroom. The consulting detective was barely hanging on, and her partner was nowhere to be seen. She returned downstairs, entering the kitchen. She walked in mid-conversation. Neil was sitting at the table, his back to her, a cup and the blue and yellow paper rabbit sitting on the table in front of him.

"No, I understand that part, but-" Dr. Watts said into the phone. "... Okay. Did you confirm it in his records?" he asked. There was a pause as the other person on the phone answered his question. "And why again was this information not made available to us? Or the medical doctor, for that matter!"

Dr. Rosalene approached him, standing just behind him, "Where did you get that coffee?" she asked. What she would have given to have a sip of that. He didn't answer her, hushing her instead. "Are you speaking with headquarter?" she prodded, wanting some answers.

He turned around sharply, "Yes! I'll fill you in after! Now shhhhhh."

She picked up the paper rabbit, "Wait, isn't this... Where did you find it?"

"In the lighthouse, before we started. Now for the last time, shhh!" he said, getting annoyed. The coffee didn't seem to be helping him any. He was just as tired and cranky and she felt.

With that last shush, he was ignoring her, so she decided to leave. She wandered around the house, rather aimlessly. She entered the living room where Lily was tucking her two children in to sleep. Dr. Rosalene didn't wish to bother them, so she crept around the room looking for anything that might help them. There was nothing, so she walked out into the dining room.

Lily was sitting at the table, looking exhausted. Eva kept her voice low as she spoke to the young woman, inquiring how she got to be working under Sherlock Holmes. She told him how her husband had died in the military, and she needed a job. Sherlock offered her work until she could get on her feet. However by the time she had the money she needed, Sherlock had fallen ill, so she'd stayed to help him.

Before Eva went back to work, Lily stopped her, thanking her for Sherlock. She said it was no trouble, before returning to the kitchen to see if Neil had finished his phone call. He had, and he wasn't the happiest camper in the world either. Eva walked up and stood next to him, "What is it?" she asked.

He looked up at her, "It seems like our little Sherlock here has some hidden records from the old days."

"Hidden records?" Dr. Rosalene asked.

"Hidden medical records, to be exact," Dr. Watts clarified. "Apparently, during his youth, he was administered a large dose of enhanced beta blockers. And what luck! They tend to have this little side-effect on a curious thing called memories!"

Dr. Rosalene turned away from him, proccessing the information. "Beta blockers..." she turned back to her partner, "Sherlock didn't have a heart condition, did he?"

"Apparently not, which leads one to wonder if the 'side-effects' were intended to be merely just that to begin with. And in such a large amount, its impact on his memories at the tiem of administration must've been significant."

"You think that's what kept us out of his earliest memories?" Eva asked.

Dr. Watts sighed, "Well it's not the machine, I'll tell you that. The maintenance department yelled at me for scolding them."

Neither of them said anything for a moment, lost in their own thoughts. Finally, Dr. Rosalene asked, "So what now?"

Dr. Watts told her that he had the information he needed to fix the machine so that it would get them past the beta blockers, and once they got to his childhood perhaps the transfer would finally work. However they were going to need a trigger of some sort in order for it to work.

That was when it hit them, the dead squirrel! It had smelled like roadkill in the memory they couldn't get to! They just needed to get that squirrel from down by the road, and when Sherlock smelled it they'd be in! Begrudgingly, Eva got herself a pair of gloves and went to get it.

When she arrived, she decided that bringing the squirrel itself would be a bad idea, since it had so much bacteria on it. Instead she rummaged through the car for a jar, and got the smell instead. She was about to return to the house when she noticed something on the ground. A small bottle, she realized it must have fallen out of the car when she was looking around for the jar. She picked it up, examining it.

They were painkillers, rather strong once. She shoved it in her pocket and began heading up towads the house. About halfway up there, she was nearly run into by Neil, who was running in the opposite direction.

"Oh Hey!" he said, trying to sound casual despite the fact he was practically out of breath. "Did you get the roadkill?"

Eva nodded, "It's ready," she told him.

He smiled at her, "Great! Go get it set up; I'll be right back."

He tried to run past her but she caught his arm, "Neil," she said seriously. He looked at her, confused, until she reached into her pocket and pulled out the painkillers. "These painkillers," she said, "I think they are yours."

"Hey!" he shouted indignantly, snatching the bottle out of her hand and hiding it in his lab coat. He also wrenched his arm out of her grasp and distanced himself.

Dr. Rosalene crossed her arms over her chest, "May I ask why you are on them?" she asked.

Neil thought about his answer for a long moment before looking down and smiling, "I wasn't going to tell you, but..." he trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck, "Oh this is embarrassing." He refused to meet her gaze, looking just about everywhere except at his partner. "A few days ago, I walked into a concrete wall!"

Eva looked skeptical, "You, just walked into a wall like that?"

Dr. Watts shrugged, "What can I say? I was in deep thought. You know how deeply I think."

He fidgeted in his place as Dr. Rosalene approached him, reaching into his pocket and holding up the painkillers. Once again she examined them, he watched her carefully. "These are some rather strong pills, Neil," she mused.

"And it was a rather strong concrete wall," he replied quickly, taking the bottle back more gently this time. "T'was a maych made in heaven, I say," he said, smiling. He once again tucked the bottle out of sight, for what he hoped would be the last time, "Anyways, you got the roadkill, right? Let's hurry, Sherlock's dying back there!"

He tried to walk back up to the house, but Eva stopped him again, grabbing his arm and forcing him to meet her gaze, "Neil. You aren't addicted, are you?"

Immediately he shook his head, chuckling, "Are you kidding me? I'd overdose before I'd sink to that level of contrived mess," he told her. He patted her hand reassuringly, and she let go of him. They began walking up towards the house, there was no more conversation. Neil's words spun around in Eva's mind. That was a strange thing for him to say, she shoved the concern down though. They had work to do!

When they reached the bedroom, they handed the jar to the doctor and instructed him on what to do before activating the machine. They were going to go all the way back to the point where they'd been stopped, before signalling him to release the smell and trigger the memories. With that, the two of them dove once more into Sherlock's memories, flying back all the way to the childhood memory that they'd been stuck at before.

Once they were ready, they signalled the doctor and the smell was released. However it didn't have the desired effect. Instead, Sherlock's condition became unstable, and the doctor's began to argue with each other on who should stay and who should leave. If Sherlock died, whoever was in the memory would permanently damage whoever was still there. However neither would go.

Luckily, the doctor attending Sherlock managed to get his condition stable once more. With everything alright, they were able to jump back into his childhood memories. They arrived in a backyard, where the pirate sword was lying in the grass. Warily, they began exploring the area. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, Sherlock's mother was standing in the driveway speaking to someone, and down the street Sherlock was playing with a ball, and talking to someone.

Dr. Watts decided it was just the time lapse, making it so there were little Sherlock's all over the place. One of them was poking at a dead squirrel in the road, which was where the smell had come from. Up the street, the mother's conversation ended, and she decided she was going to the store. The doctors looked around, finding nothing unusual.

Suddenly Dr. Rosalene seemed to think of something, and dragged her partner back up the street towards the house. They were just in time to see a little boy with black curls run out behind his mother's car just as she was backing out. What happened next seemed to be almost slow motion, as the car hit him.

Immediately the car screeched to a stop and his mother ran out, kneeling beside him. However it was too late to do anything about it. The two doctors approached slowly, the street was covered in the little boy's blood and he was completely still.

"I don't understand..." Dr. Watts said, "If he was unconscious, how could we be seeting this here when he never did? Still, I'm just surprised that he survived"

"Actually, he didn't," Dr. Rosalene informed him. They watched as another little boy ran up to the scene, black curls bouncing and bright blue eyes wide.

"SHERRINGFORD!" he called, stopping in front of his brother and shaking him. "Sherringford? Can you hear me? Sherringford?" He turned to his mother, clearly upset and confused, "Why did you hit Sherringford, Mummy? Why did you hit him?"

His mother couldn't answer him, she'd been reduced to a weeping mess as she held her dead son in her arms. Sherlock didn't give up though, he continued pulling and prodding the little boy who looked just like him, "Sherringford? Wake up Sherry! WAKE UP!"

The commotion had drawn a crowd, and Sherlock's father and older brother came out of the house to see what was going on. Sherlock flew into Mycroft's arms tearfully, "Myc! You gotta wake up Sherringford! I tried but he won't! You can do it right? Right?"

Mycroft tightened his grip on his brother, staring at the bloody mess on the pavement in front of him. Their father told him to go into the house and take Sherlock with him, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from the scene. Finally their father pushed Mycroft in the direction of the house, forcing him to move. Sherlock's wails became more frantic, "Mycroft! You're going to the wrong way!"

"He's not... He..." Mycroft took a shuddering breath as he carried Sherlock into the house. "He's not waking up Sherlock, he'll never wake up. Now hush," he said brokenly. When the two brothers disappeared from sight, the doctors turned away from the scene themselves, not wanting to see anymore.

"Even though they were young, to lose a twin brother. Not to mention how their mother must feel," Dr. Rosalene said.

Dr. Watts sighed sadly, "At least Sherlock had the beta-blockers erase the memories. Not like he remembers it, much."

"Fuzzily unlinked, not erased. Somewhere in there, the aftermath of those memories probably lingered"

"What about their mother?" Dr. Watts asked, "I don't think she took the beta-blockers."

Eva glanced back over at the mother before looking back at Neil, "She seems to have gone a little cuckoo. At least, I don't really think she called Sherlock 'Sherringford' as a nickname."

Dr. Watts looked back at the scene, "If she takes Sherlock for Sherringford, then what about Sherlock himself?"

Dr. Rosalene shook her head, saying she wanted to move on. Dr. Watts readily agreed and the two of them used Sherringford himself as the memento to jump back into time.


	6. Chapter 6

**Depression ahoy! Sherlock and To The Moon do not belong to me. That is all. Reviews and stuff... yep, thanks!**

* * *

They arrived in the boys' bedroom. Sherlock was sitting at the desk writing something while Sherringford was sitting on the top bunk of a bunkbed, reading a book. "Hey mate, you should definately give this series a try," Sherringford said, looking down at his brother. "I mean really, it's just really cool! I've already plowed through three books straight!"

Sherlock turned in his seat to look at his twin, "What's it called?" he asked.

"Animorphs!" Sherringford replied cheerfully, "It's about this group of kids turning into animals to fight mind controlling slugs!"

"Meh, I don't like that weird alien stuff," Sherlock said, turning back to what he'd been writing before.

Sherringford cocked his head, "Why not? It's great! Instead of going to boring school, they get to turn into tigers and maul big bad aliens! They're all like 'rawr rawr! RAWR RAWR RAWR! And then they pick up lasers! And it's all like 'pew pew! PEW PEW PEW PEW'!"

"Pew pew pew pew pew pew pew-"

Sherlock cut him off, "Stop that!" Sherringford just laughed, flopping back on the bed and staring at the bedroom ceiling.

"Just watch, Sherlock. One day, I'm gonna be a famous writer. I'll write the coolest novel on the block, and every kid will get my book for free. I'll make us rich, and buy you, and Mycroft, and Mummy really big houses."

"How would you get rich if you give away the books for free?" Sherlock asked skeptically, turning and looking back up at his brother.

Sherringford sat back up, "Free for the kids, the parents'll still have to pay, of course!"

Little Sherlock just rolled his eyes, "Yeah, I'm sure the parents'll be thrilled to give you money," he said sarcastically, returning to his work.

There was a moment of silence before Sherringford asked, "What, you're still mad about the other day?" When Sherlock didn't answer he slouched slightly, "Aw c'mon, I called first dibs on the train fair and square! What happened to your prize anyway?"

Sherlock couldn't ignored his brother, no matter how hard he pressed his pencil into the paper. "I gave it away," he replied simply, not looking up.

"To a hobo?"

Sherlock slammed the pencil down and looked up at his brother crossly, "Look, it's not just about that day!" He sighed, turning back to the desk and rested his cheek on his hand, "You know Mummy always favoured you."

Sherringford shook his head, "Hey, that's not true!"

"Remember last Christmas? And last Easter, and the time we went fishing, and-"

"Okay okay, you know what, you can have my train if you want!" Sherringford said, not wanting to see his brother upset.

Sherlock's face lit up slightly, "Really?" he asked, as though he couldn't believe it.

Sherringford grinned and nodded, his black curls bouncing in all different directions, "Yup! I mean hey, by your reasoning, she'll just get me another one, right?"

Slightly upset, Sherlock turned back to the desk again. Sherringford realized he'd said the wrong thing and tried a different approach. "Listen, Sherlock. What difference does it make who 'owns' what? Everything that's mine, is yours too. I mean, we both get to play with it, right?"

Sherlock seemed to consider this for a moment before nodding slowly, "Yeah," he said quietly.

"Right!" Sherringford chimed enthusiastically. "I mean c'mon, you're my twin brother. You're like a part of me!" Thunder crashed outside and Sherringford looked out the window before abandoning his book and jumping off his bunk. "Oy! Let's go confuse the neighbors!" he said, heading out the door.

Sherlock followed, a little more warily. "Wait, in the rain?" he asked. "Won't that upset Mycroft?" he asked .

"Yes it will! C'mon!" Sherringford called, laughing. Sherlock beamed, a mischevious glint in his eyes, before following his twin out into the pouring rain. The two doctors watched them go, feeling even more sad after finding out just what happened to Sherringford. He seemed like a good kid, and even though Sherlock was jealous, he obviously loved him.

They went back in time using the train the boys had spoken to each other about, and arrived at a lively carnival. The two doctors bantered a bit before going to look for Sherlock. He was standing near a booth with his two brothers and his mother.

Sherlock was upset, because he wanted the train as his prize since he'd won. However Sherringford had won it before him. Sherringford tried to comfort him, telling him that he could play with the train too.

"See how nice your brother is, Sherlock?"

Young Sherlock didn't say anything, instead he pouted as the person running the game moved them along. Mummy began leading them towards another stand, Sherringford following eagerly behind. Mycroft stayed towards the back with Sherlock, holding his hand and telling him the cheap plastic toy wasn't worth being upset about. He distracted Sherlock by telling him some things he'd deduced about the man running the game, causing his little brother to smile and laugh.

Dr. Watts saw what game they'd been playing and his eyes went wide. Whac-a-mole was apparently a game he knew well. Dr. Rosalene didn't understand it, so Dr. Watts took it upon himself to demonstrate for her. He made himself visible, marching up to the game and asking to play. He beat the moles, missing more often than not. Therefore, he didn't win anything, however he was satisfied.

They made themselves invisible once more and caught up with Sherlock and company. They were observing a fortune teller, Sherringford and their Mother looking mystified while Mycroft and Sherlock looked like they wanted to tear the man apart and expose his every trick. He wasn't even predicting people, just throwing out random things that sounded good. He said Sherringford would be a lawyer, and Sherlock a doctor.

"Oh my! C'mon, I'm getting both of ya treats!" she exclaimed, leading them towards a booth that sold ice cream. Sherlock and Mycroft just rolled their eyes, Sherringford just wanted ice cream and didn't care that the fortune teller was a phoney. On their way to the ice cream, they passed the world's smallest ferris wheel, that could not be ridden and didn't even work. Mycroft pointed it out to Sherlock, "It appears someone glued some chairs to a water-wheel." Sherlock giggled.

In the end, Sherringford gave up on the ice cream when he saw another stand selling pickled olives. He chose that over the ice cream, Sherlock seemed baffled. As they sat down at a table to eat, Mycroft making sure Sherlock didn't make a mess, Sherringford grinned and poped an olive in his mouth.

"Mm-mmmmm" Sherringford emphasised.

Sherlock wrinkled his nose "I can never understand you, Sherringford. How can you stand the taste of them?" he asked, "They're just so sour and... revolting."

"Sour and awesome is what you mean," Sherringford replied. He pulled out an olive and offered it to Sherlock, "Just try it!" he said. Sherlock reeled away from it in disgust, hiding his face in Mycroft's side.

"Naw, I don't even wanna taste regular olive."

"You should try at least one, Sherlock. Who knows, maybe you'll like it," their mother chided.

"Yeah!" Sherringford said, once again trying to push the olive onto Sherlock.

Mycroft snatched it and poped it in his mouth, chewing it and swallowing it. "I'm not particularly fond of them, however they're bearable Sherlock. Perhaps one of these days I'll get you some regular olives. Those are much better," he said.

Sherlock made a face that said he clearly wasn't interested, before looking up at his mother, "I'm done. Can I go play?" he asked.

Their mother considered it before nodding, "Okay, but only at the playgroudn and not an inch too far!" she said. Sherlock quickly made his escape, grabbing his bag that had his prizes in it and running off to the playground. Mycroft watched him go, and once Sherlock was far out of sight he asked Sherringford for another olive.

The two doctors followed Sherlock all the way to the playground. He looked around at the other children, completely uninterested in them, before spotting a fallen log that went over the small stream that ran next to the playground. Sherlock climbed over it without a second thought, walking confidently up into the woods far from civilization.

Crickets chirped in the night as Sherlock marched on, hopping over some smaller streams and heading towards a cliff. Birds flew overhead, Sherlock admired them for a moment before sitting on a log on the edge of the cliff. The view was amazing, and the sky that night was covered in stars.

"It's a shame, though," Dr. Rosalene commented, "All these nice memories, lost and never found. And who knows how many more like it?"

Suddenly a rustling noise caught Sherlock's attention and both he and the doctors whipped around. Something was coming, Dr. Watts thought it was tigers. However he couldn't have been further from the truth.

A little boy, with blonde hair sticking up in all directions that reminded Dr. Watts of a hedgehog, and a plaid shirt, was tramping through the woods just as Sherlock had been. He looked to be about Sherlock's age too. Sherlock hopped off his log and went in investigate the newcomer.

"Hello," he said after a moment. The other boy looked up in surprise, seeming unsure what to do, before turning and walking back the way he'd come. "Wait, don't go!" Sherlock called, running after him and catching up. "I'm Sherlock, what's your name?"

The boy stopped, looking over his shoulder shyly, "You're at my spot," he said softly.

"Your spot?" Sherlock asked, he looked back and suddenly realized, "Oh! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to hog this place all to myself!" He stood akwardly for a moment, staring at his shoes, before asking, "Um, You wanna join me?"

The other boy seemed to consider it for a moment, "Are you here to watch the stars?" he asked.

"Are you?" Sherlock shot back.

One thing led to another, and soon the two boys were sitting side by side on the log, looking up at the sky together.

Sherlock remembered Mycroft telling him it was rude not to speak, so he tried to make conversation as best he could. "Just look at 'em. Did you know there were so many lights in the sky?" he asked.

"Yes," the other boy replied and Sherlock felt stupid, he fidgeted in his seat and looked down at his hands.

"Oh, uh, I did too!" Sherlock said akwardly.

Sherlock looked back up at the sky, "You said this was your spot, right?"

"Only during the carnival."

"Not a fan of the crowds?" Sherlock asked. When the boy didn't answer Sherlock hummed, "Me neither. Y'know, you still haven't told me your name yet."

"I"m not telling you," the boy said, "Everyone makes fun of it in school."

"Why?"

"They say it makes them want to go to the washroom," he said.

Sherlock smiled, "Your name is John then. That's not so bad. Nothing can be worse than 'Sherlock'," he said. When the boy, John, looked up at him in surprise Sherlock beamed, happy that his deduction had been correct.

"I mean, everywhere in the world, nearly everyone's named John!" Sherlock said.

John gave him a funny look, "Even in India?" he asked.

Sherlock nodded, "Probably! Who do you know that has the name Sherlock? No one, it's too different."

"What's wrong with that?"

Sherlock turned to look at John, "Hm?"

"What's wrong with having a name that's different?" John clarified.

"Well, it's weird. Other kids think that things that are different are wrong, and they don't want to be my friend. I mean, why would anyone want to talk to someone named Sherlock?"

"I wouldn't mind," John said quietly, glancing over at Sherlock, "Just for once, to have a name that's different from everyone else. It's like those lights in the sky. They all look the same from here, it's hard to isolate just one. However the moon is big, and different from all the stars. Everybody notices it and admires how pretty and special it is," he explained.

Sherlock looked at the moon, "Eh, I suppose," he said slowly, letting John's words sink in. There was a long bit of silence that made Sherlock slightly uncomfortable, and was surprised when John asked him a question this time.

"What do you think those stars up there are anyways?"

"My brother said they're giant burning spheres of gas," Sherlock replied knowingly. He remembered Mycroft showing him a book about the solar system, and about the stars.

John looked over at him, "Oh, I bet he's just making it up," he said.

Sherlock frowned, "Why would he lie to me?"

"Because, y'know, that's what siblings do. They make things up. My sister makes things up all the time. Santa, Easter Bunny, kangaroos... stuff like that," John said, and Sherlock couldn't help but chuckle. "Have you ever made an Easter Bunny out of stars?" John asked, returning his gaze to the sky.

"Like a constellation?" Sherlock asked.

John nodded, "Yes."

Sherlock thought for a minute, staring at the multitudes of stars, "Um, of other things," he said slowly, "Never tried a rabbit though."

"Do you want to make one?" John asked.

A challenge! Sherlock liked a challenge, he would beat this very average boy at his own game! "Yeah! We'll make the bestest constellation ever. Let's see who makes one out first! Okay, we'll start in three. Three, two, one, and st-"

Before Sherlock could finish John announced, "I see it."

Sherlock internally was crestfallen, "Where?" he asked, wondering how John had found one so fast.

"In the sky," John informed him, as though he'd asked a dumb question.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "Uh, but where in the sky?" he asked.

John smiled, "Think big," he said. Sherlock searched the sky, a big rabbit? Why couldn't he see a big rabbit shouldn't it have been obvious? "Bigger than all the others," John encouraged, trying to give him a hint.

"I don't know," Sherlock said, shaking his head in defeat. He look up one last time and suddenly, he realized what John was trying to point out. "Wait a minute, wait a minute! I SEE IT!" he said excitedly.

"Tell me what you see," John said, his eyes never leaving the sky.

Sherlock pointed up, "There, right? There're the two ears and head!"

"What else?"

"And there! There're its two feet!"

"Yes, what else?"

"And, and the MOON! The moon is its big round belly!" Sherlock explained.

John was satisfied with his answer, and once more the two of them lapsed into silence. "So," Sherlock said, "What do you think they really are? The stars, I mean."

"I..." John seemed unsure, but he continued anyway, "I've never told anyone but... I've always thought they were lighthouses. Billions of lighthouses, stuck at the far end of the sky."

Sherlock smiled, "Wow, it must be lively up there,"

John shook his head, almost sadly, "But it isn't," he explained, "They can see all the other lighthouses out there, and they want to talk to them. But they can't, because they're all too far apart to hear what the others are saying. All they can do, is shine their lights from afar. So that's what they do. they shine their lights at the other lighthouses, and at me."

"Why you?" Sherlock asked.

"Because one day, I'm going to befriend one of them," John replied. Suddenly the blonde boy noticed the bag that was sitting at Sherlock's feet, "That bag, what's in it?"

Sherlock looked down at it, "Oh, it's the prise I won from the whac-a-mole! Did you get to play that game?" he asked.

John looked down at his hands, "I tried, but I'm not fast enough." He looked up at Sherlock and the two of them met each other's gazes for the first time that night, "What did you get from it?" he asked.

"I got a, thing," Sherlock said, hopping off the log and opening the bag to reveal a very familiar little platypus toy. "I don't really know what it is, it's some kind of a weird duck, beaver thing."

"May I see it?" John asked, and Sherlock handed it to him. The other boy examined it, laughing, "It looks so strange! I wish I could win one myself."

Suddenly Mycroft's voice was heard in the distance, calling for Sherlock. The boy in quesetion jumped, "Eek! That's my brother calling!" he said.

"Here," John said, offering the toy back to its owner. Sherlock shook his head, pushing it back into John's arms.

"You know what, keep it, its yours," Sherlock told him.

John looked a little confused, but wrapped his arms around the toy anyways, "Mine?" he asked.

Sherlock nodded, "Yeah, I can always get another. I don't like to brag, but I'm totally the best at that game!" he said, puffing out his chest slightly. He began to walk away when John called out to him.

"Will you be here next year?" he asked.

Once again Sherlock nodded, "Yup, will you?"

"Yes."

"Same place, same time?"

"Yes."

Sherlock crawled over the log and began walking back, John hopped off the log as well, clutching the platypus to his chest and watching Sherlock walk away. "What is you forget, or get lost?" John shouted after him.

The little boy turned around, looking at his new friend and then up at the sky, "Then we'll regroup on the moon, John! Right on the rabbit's tummy!"

"SHERLOCK!" Mycroft's voice sounded again, sounding a little more urgent and frantic this time.

"COMING!" Sherlock yelled in reply, quickening his pace. He skidded to a halt. "Oh, I forgot my hacky sack in the bag. You said you were slow right? Maybe it'll help!" John smiled and nodded. Sherlock started off again, running this time so that his brother wouldn't shout his name again.

John watched him until he was out of sight, before taking the hacky sack out of the bag and tossing it onto the log where he'd been sitting. He sat down himself where Sherlock had been, hugging the platypus and watching the stars.

"If they ever get lost?" Dr. Watts asked, "Wait, does that mean-"

Dr. Rosalene rolled her eyes, "Don't tell me you didn't see that coming.

Dr. Watts shook his head, "And here I thought this was gonna be an inspirational childhood dream story. I should've known that some kid would come alone and turn it into a cheesefest."

"I suppose now, we know what we must do to send him to the moon," Dr. Rosalene said.

"Wait, you aren't actually going to do it, are you?" Neil asked, worry creeping into his voice.

Eva turned and looked at him, "It's our job, Neil," she reminded him, "It's what we are contracted to do."

Dr. Watts grabbed her arm, "Damn it Eva, WAIT!" he called, but it was too late. She was already gone. "Eva..." he groaned, and looking at little John one last time, he followed his partner. He had an idea exactly where she was going, and he only hoped he wouldn't be too late to stop it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Here be the end. Short, sweet, and to the point. Have fun. THANKS FOR READING! Sherlock and To The Moon do not belong to me! Reviews still welcome!**

* * *

They arrived at St. Bart's, and Dr. Watts saw no sign of Eva. Sherlock was sitting at his microscope, nothing had happened yet. He ran out into the hall and ran towards the elevator, where he saw Eva standing and waiting for it. "Turn around!" he shouted at her.

She turned and looked at him, "Neil,"

"I know what you are planning to do."

"I know that you know," she replied calmly.

Dr. Watts frowned, "Yeah? Well I know that you know that I kn-"

Dr. Rosalene looked annoyed, "Look, our contract is to send him to the moon," she said. "And the only way for that to happen is if Sherlock is motivated to do so."

"But if that means removing John, then what's the point?! The reason why he even wants to go to the moon in the first place is because he died!" Dr. Watts shouted, getting red in the face.

Eva wasn't moved, she remained calm as ever, "I know. But we are legally bound by the contract to specifically-" she tried to explain but he cut her off.

"Fuck the contract! I didn't take this job to make him miserable, Eva!" He took a minute to try and calm down, however no amount of deep breaths could help him. "I don't know about you, but I signed up to help freakin' geezers die happy."

"Me too. And I like this job." Eva agreed, she approached him and tried to calm him down. "But if we directly go against our legal obligations, we'd be in for court hearings."

Dr. Watts shook his head, "We'll appeal! We know that Sherlock'd be happier to not go to the moon!"

Dr. Rosalene put a hand on his shoulder, "Sherlock would be happier with a lot of alternate life tangents, Neil. We are not here to play God. Our job is to give him what he signed for."

"Well, we happen to know what he wants better than he does!"

Dr. Rosalene forced him to look at her, "Look, I'm only risking losing John because I believe in him, and-" Dr. Watts cut her off once more.

"What do you mean 'risk'?! You're removing her!"

Undeterred, Dr. Rosalene continued what she'd been saying before, "And besides, I will make up for it."

"Make up for it how?" Dr. Watts asked, practically pleading with her not to go through with it. Suddenly the world around them flashed red, signalling that they were losing Sherlock and there wasn't much time left. Dr. Rosalene walked away, glancing over her shoulder, she told Neil not to follow and to trust her. With that, she disappeared again.

Dr. Watts wasn't going to let it go so easily though. He took the elevator to the bottom floor and ran out of the hospital. However instead of running out into the London streets, he ran into another hospital corridor, with zombies in it. Dr. Watts couldn't help but roll his eyes, she was too determinded for her own good.

He shoved his way past them, dodging boulders and spikes that she placed in order to slow him down. He realized after a while that he was running in a continuous loop and that there was no end, however he didn't care. He kept running, and began running into rooms full of memories together. Old John and little John speaking to each other, rabbits hopping down the hall, the sounds of violin and piano music.

Suddenly it ended when Eva called his cell phone, and told him to walk through the door that had just appeared. He arrived on the London streets, and watched as Mike Samford and John Watson just missed each other. Samford returned to St. Bart's, where Sherlock was still sitting at his microscope. "Hey Mike can I borrow your phone? There's no signal on mine," he asked.

Samford shook his head, "Sorry mate, left it in my jacket."

Sherlock glanced up at him, "Well, how was your lunch? No luck finding me a roommate I see," he said.

"Now Sherlock, I'm sure I can just find you some-"

Sherlock cut him off, as he stood, pulling on his coat and his scarf, "Don't bother Mike, you'll never find a roommate for me. It's impossible. Now I'm going to retrieve my riding crop and then I'm going to find a signal. Later," he said, leaving.

Sherlock retrieved his riding crop and stepped outside, where he was suddenly met by a very familiar looking young man. "Hey, I thought you'd never get out of there, I'm starving!"

"Is Lestrade coming?"

The other man, who looked nearly identical except for his attire and the fact his black curls were cut a great deal shorter than Sherlock's, shook his head, "Nah, he's got some sort of important case about serial suicides. Have you been reading about that?"

They walked down the street together, side by side, and Dr. Watts couldn't believe his eyes, "No Sherringford, I'm too busy to deal with Lestrade's work. I'm sure he'll rally his completely incompetent team together and they'll come up with some sort of story to reassure the public. Now come on, there's a great chinese resturant about four blocks from here."

Dr. Rosalene and Dr. Watts stopped and watched the two men walk out of sight together. "Saving him doesn't justify it," Dr. Watts said.

"He can always find another John, Neil. But he'll only have one twin brother," Dr. Rosalene replied. She nudged him, "Come on, we're in the way."

And so they watched as finally, everything changed. Sherlock Holmes never saw John Watson again after that moment, but since his brother had survived he never forgot him. He remember the promise he'd made, to meet up with John on the moon. So he went for it, using his intellect to fly through school. He never stooped to doing drugs, to everyone's relief. He worked to be an astronaut, though sometimes he did help Lestrade as a consulting detective.

Most of the cases Sherlock and John solved together though, went cold. There was no blog, there were no newspaper articles. Sherringford did write a book about Sherlock though, a famous book that made him a lot of money just like he'd said when they would children. It was about Sherlock Holmes, the stupid astronaut. Mummy Holmes was proud of both her children, and called Sherlock by his name instead of by Sherringford's.

Mycroft still became the british government, however he was much warmer by nature. He loved both his brother, often going out to lunch with them and helping them out with their career paths. Mycroft made all the connections for Sherlock so that he could become a part of NASA, while he paid for Sherringford's university so that he could become a writer. He never grieved, never feared losing his brother, and therefore never had to lock his emotions away. He was incredibly smart, but very open and honest with everyone he met. He married and had a son whom he allowed Sherringford to name Oliver.

So Sherlock made it to NASA, and Dr. Watts felt very sad about it. They followed him around NASA as one of the scientists gave him a tour, finishing in the break room. There was a mission specialist there, named David. Sherlock chatted amiably with him for a moment when suddenly the door opened and a young man walked through the door.

"Ah, and here's our other new recruit. John, right? Good to have you on board!"

The blonde young man in an oatmeal coloured jumped walked over to where Sherlock was standing, smiling and shaking his hand. Sherlock smiled politely, "Hello, I'm Sherlock."

Dr. Rosalene let out a huge sigh of relief, while Dr. Watts nearly punched her. She explained to him then, how since everything was based on Sherlock's memory, John would likely be a part of it. She hadn't been sure, but she'd hoped. And she'd been right, Sherlock and John would go to the moon together.

So they trained to be astronauts together, for years. The song Sherlock had written when John was dying he renamed 'To the moon', and played it in the NASA lounge for John during their free time. John loved the song. Then the day came when it was time for them to go to the moon together. They sat side by side in the in the shuttle together, the doctors watched from a nearby bridge with several people who had been important to Sherlock.

Lestrade and Molly stood togeher, conversing about how amazed they were that Sherlock and John had made it. Mycroft and Sherringford stood together, little Oliver perched on his father's shoulders. Sherringford was telling him how he would have to change the ending to the book he'd written about Uncle Sherlock, since the original ending wasn't very optimistic.

Dr. Rosalene was perched on the edge of the bridge, and somehow convinced Dr. Watts to sit next to her. Together, they watched as the shuttle took off into the sky, sending Sherlock and John to the moon together. From there, everything fell into place. Sherlock and John got married at the lighthouse, and with the money they'd made going to the moon and with help from Sherringford and Mycroft, they built their dream house together. When John got sick, they paid for the treatments and together they grew old together, looking at constellations from the cliff overlooking the lighthouse.

Once the shuttle was out of sight, the two doctors left the memories. However Sherlock kept dreaming, he was going to the moon. John at his side. He felt slightly afraid, however John offered him his hand. He reached out and grasped it tightly, smiling at his best friend. The moon was just coming into view when suddenly, it was over. Sherlock Holmes was dead.


End file.
